Hopeful Memories
by steph84
Summary: Hermione married Draco out of pure love. But she's missing her friends out of pure friendship. What will happen when she becomes pregnant?
1. Happily Ever After?

The birds chirping outside the window stirred her mind from its sleepy state. She rubbed her eyes unconsciously and yawned. Her eyes watered as she opened them to glance upon the room she was in.  
  
It took her a few minutes to recall on the reason why she was in the sitting room downstairs as opposed to upstairs in her own bed. The rustle of the letters on her lap brought her mind back to the night before where she had sat in that very same chair and gone through every letter she had received from her childhood friends over the years. Smiling at the memories, she wondered what Ron Weasley and Harry Potter were doing at that very moment.  
  
She stood up to stretch her legs from their cramped space and headed towards the kitchen. Still too early for the kitchen help to be up, she made herself a quick cup of coffee and then took the steaming mug outside the house to the front porch. She sat on the swinging chair, her legs tucked under her, and stared into the April morning dew. The sun, having risen only moments before, temporarily blinded her as she watched people pass by the end of the driveway. She waved to them cheerfully; couples walking hand in hand, children playing on bikes, teenagers walking dogs. It made her feel young again and brought her mind back to her days at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  
  
She had met Harry Potter and Ron Weasley in her first year at the magical school. Upon learning she was a witch, she was whisked off to the school, scared and alone. No one in her family before her had been of magical descent and it was on this basis that Hermione Granger met her future husband.  
  
Draco Malfoy took great pride and pleasure in taunting the young Hermione with jeering and name-calling. "Mudblood," was one of his favourites; a foul term used only for those who were born to Muggle parents. Hermione rose to the occasion magnificently every time, challenging Malfoy with her wand, or just simply with words. He never chose to back down, therefore paving the way for their future relationship. All Hermione had ever wanted in a man was one who would stand his ground. Needless to say, she was shocked to feel the romantic feelings stirring within her body whenever Malfoy approached her in their final year at Hogwarts. Confused, she clung to Harry and Ron worse than ever before, until Malfoy confessed his feelings for her.  
  
They married at the tender age of twenty-two. Now, four years later, Hermione sat happily on the deck of the home their love had built and grown upon, thinking of her past friends, whom she hadn't spoken with in over three years.  
  
The sound of the wooden door creaking open made Hermione's head turn. Draco stood off to her left, rubbing his own eyes in uncertainty. "Didn't you come to bed last night?"  
  
"Good morning to you, too," she teased as he kissed her lightly. "No, I didn't. I slept in the armchair in the sitting room."  
  
He sat on the swing beside her, causing it to swing backwards briefly. "Why?" he asked, still looking perplexed as to why he was awake so early.  
  
She shrugged, taking another sip of her coffee. "I just didn't feel like sleeping all that much. Want a cup of coffee?" She held up her own mug and he declined with a shake of his head.  
  
"Thinking about Potter and Weasley again?"  
  
Once again, she shrugged, as it seemed to be her easiest answer of the morning. "Sometimes I do, more than others. Do you want any breakfast?"  
  
"I can wait until the kitchen staff is awake." He looked around the front lawn, the grass still glistening with the morning dampness. "Remind me again why we're up so early?"  
  
"I simply couldn't sleep and I'm not sure about you," she answered, uncurling her legs from the swinging chair. When her feet hit the ground, she felt her legs tingle with pins and needles. "I do know that I'm going to need a good night's sleep tonight," she continued, wincing from the prickly sensation that was coursing through her legs. "That chair isn't nearly as comfortable as it looks."  
  
"I can imagine." Draco himself looked like he could do with a good nap. Hermione almost suggested it but the great clock in the front foyer chimed, indicating that it was seven. If they went back to bed now, she figured, they would never sleep come that night. No, it was better to stay awake and be exhausted that evening.  
  
"I'm going in for a minute," she told her drowsy husband, standing on wobbly legs. She wanted to tuck her letters away before he saw them, if he hadn't already. Although Draco, Harry and Ron hadn't exactly seen eye to eye in school, they managed to keep their arguments minimal during the wedding, therefore perfecting Hermione's special day. She knew Draco didn't entirely approve of either of the boys still, but with time, Hermione was hoping on introducing them to one another.  
  
Inside the house was much more stifling than outside. Hermione made a mental note to open some windows and air out the house before the staff began to arrive. It had been against her better judgement to hire cleaning help but her recent tiredness had given her cause to believe they had made the right decision. She had been feeling a little more ragged than usual lately and chalked it up to the fact that she was working overtime at the Three Broomsticks where she was a waitress.  
  
Inside, her letters were still waiting for her, piled just as she left them. She gathered them up in her arms, marvelling at how many there were, and headed to her 'study' on the second floor. Upon building their dream home shortly before the wedding, Hermione had insisted that it have three floors, not including a basement. "Three's a lucky number," she insisted. And in return for giving such a good idea (considering their marriage had been near perfect so far) Draco had awarded Hermione her very own study office where she could write or draw or do whatever she pleased. So far, all she had done was use it as storage space for her many letters.  
  
As she tucked them away in their proper places, she heard the kitchen staff begin to trickle in. She greeted them warmly, as always, and they began to prepare the breakfast meal. Hermione straddled a chair while talking to the main cook, Shelby, about the weather lately. She heard Draco walk past the kitchen door and head upstairs for his morning shower. It was Wednesday; he would be working at the Ministry today, as he did every other weekday, but Wednesdays were always Hermione's days off from the tavern. No matter what the circumstances, she always managed to keep Wednesday as her one fixed day off.  
  
"I heard it's supposed to rain for the weekend," piped up Chevy, a pleasant, young girl on the serving crew. "Which would figure, of course."  
  
"Of course," echoed Hermione. "We're having that big celebration this weekend with my parents, Lucius and Narcissa. How exciting that could be."  
  
"Oh yes!" cried Shelby in fake enthusiasm. "Being stuck inside on a rainy day with Mr. Pompous Malfoy and Mrs. Haughty Malfoy; oh please, can I work that day?"  
  
Hermione laughed, hoping Draco couldn't hear. The sounds of the water had been shut off and she strained her ears so hard listening for his footsteps that she almost didn't hear Chevy's question.  
  
"What was that, Chevy? I'm sorry, I got a little distracted."  
  
Chevy waved her hand as if shooing the matter away like a pesky fly. "I was just wondering what the celebration this weekend was for."  
  
"Oh. My parents are starting their own business," Hermione explained, still straining her ears. She suddenly had a strong longing to feel her husband's presence near her. "They started a restaurant business last month and it's really taken off."  
  
"Muggle, I suppose?" Shelby asked, no note of condescendence in her voice.  
  
Hermione nodded as she took a long swallow of orange juice. "Never drink orange juice right after coffee," she told the girls, making a face.  
  
"I can't stay to chat," Draco said, hurrying down the staircase. He was still pulling on his robes when he reached the door. "I just received an owl from Howard Berg at the office; apparently there's a problem with some unauthorized Portkeys being created and I've got to sort it out." Draco worked in the Magical Transportation section of the Ministry of Magic.  
  
Hermione hurried to catch her husband at the door before he left. "I was hoping we could have a private breakfast together," she said hopefully.  
  
"Not this morning," he told her briskly as he finally got his robes done up. "I've got to tend to this mess. But maybe I'll come home for lunch, since I've gone in early." He kissed her quickly and departed, leaving her with her head tilted upwards expectantly. She lowered it in defeat as she closed the door behind him and rested her head against it. Not even nine o'clock and already things in the Malfoy house were unbearably insane. 


	2. Hints

On her few days off, Hermione liked to go window-shopping in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. Several of her friends (usually wives of Draco's fellow workers) thought it would be more appropriate if she worked in a more respectful atmosphere. They turned down their superior noses at taverns and the Three Broomsticks was at the top of their list.  
  
That Wednesday morning, Hermione decided to take a quick window tour of Diagon Alley. She approached the Quidditch shop with apprehension; every time she neared the building, she felt an amazing sense of homesickness for Hogwarts. She would remember summers when she, Harry and Ron would pick up their school supplies then look anxiously in the windows of the Quidditch shop to see if anything had changed. Hermione sighed, fighting the urge to press her hot forehead against the cool window. A sudden flash of unbearable heat overcame her and she struggled to the nearest bench where she sat for a moment until the spell passed.  
  
"Hermione Granger?"  
  
The voice startled her and she turned towards the thickly accented voice. The speaker's shadow loomed behind her, blocking out the bright sunlight from her view.  
  
"Seamus Finnigan?"  
  
"Yeah!" A bright smile crept across the face of Hermione's former schoolmate. He hadn't changed a bit since their days at Hogwarts, except perhaps his hair appeared a little darker. She stood up to greet him and he pulled her into a hug, nearly causing another spell of heat and dizziness. "It's been forever! How are you?"  
  
"Fine, Seamus, just fine," she replied, pulling back and straightening her hair. "How about you? Married yet?"  
  
Seamus shook his head, the familiar grin refusing to fade. "Nah," he answered. "Was seeing a girl but things didn't work out."  
  
"Sorry to hear that."  
  
"Well, these things happen." His eyes travelled over Hermione's face. "What about you? Did you and Weasley ever get married?"  
  
Hermione forged a laugh that came out high and squeaky, unusual for her. "No, no, we didn't," she confessed, but halted to say anything more.  
  
"Well?" Seamus looked at her expectantly and his eyes briefly travelled to the gold band on her finger. "Who did you marry?" His face changed and his eyes widened. "Don't tell me, was it Potter?"  
  
"Not exactly." Hermione took a shuddering breath. "Draco Malfoy."  
  
For a split second, Seamus looked appalled. Then he laughed hysterically, doubling over and slapping his knee. "You're joking, right?" he asked when he straightened out again. "You're pulling my leg. There's no way you and Malfoy could have married."  
  
Hermione smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, there is," she said softly and Seamus' laughter stopped.  
  
"The name Malfoy is well-known," he said, still looking a little distrustful. "Why didn't I hear about this marriage?"  
  
"It was a quiet ceremony."  
  
"Wow." Seamus looked absolutely stunned and Hermione couldn't help but giggle.  
  
"It's not really that big of a deal, is it Seamus? People get married everyday and people change."  
  
"I'll say," Seamus retorted, staring at Hermione as if he barely knew her. "You've changed, Hermione. The old Hermione would never have even dreamt of marrying someone like Malfoy."  
  
"I meant he's changed," Hermione said feebly, looking down at the ground. Seamus' words stung; had she really changed that much? Was that why her friends no longer wanted to be in contact with her?  
  
"Yeah, well, I guess," Seamus said, looking behind him. "I have to go, Hermione. Take care and say hi to Weasley and Potter for me." He departed before Hermione had the change to tell him that he probably had a better chance of seeing them before she did.  
  
She watched as he hurried away and contemplated his comments. Had she really changed that much? It was true, in their early years at Hogwarts, no one would have ever suspected that Hermione Granger would marry Draco Malfoy, her enemy. But people changed, didn't they? That's what life was all about: changing and learning to adapt to certain aspects of change. It was only natural that she see the other side of Draco after so many years.  
  
A strong fit of nausea swept over her, causing her thoughts to momentarily cease and her mind to go blank. She breathed deeply, waiting for it to pass before deciding she should head home and lie down for a bit. If these attacks didn't stop, she would have to go see her doctor and that was the last thing she needed: a doctor telling her to get more rest and eat properly. It was hard with her work schedule, but she did try.  
  
Back at home, the kitchen crew was preparing lunch. "Mr. Malfoy sent an owl," Chevy called. "He'll be here for lunch, in about twenty minutes."  
  
"Mr. Malfoy?" Hermione thoroughly hated when the help referred to Draco as 'Mr. Malfoy' for it simply confused her. "Mr. Malfoy is what you call Lucius," she had told them many times. "At least, that's the polite version of what you call Lucius."  
  
"Sorry, Draco will be here for lunch shortly," corrected Shelby and Hermione smiled briefly.  
  
"Thanks, girls," she answered, although she was in no mood to have company for lunch. She had considered skipping the meal altogether to take a quick nap but decided that might only increase her ill feelings. Instead of heading upstairs, she took a seat at the kitchen table and stared off into space.  
  
"You look tired," Chevy commented, breaking up lettuce into a bowl and staring at Hermione with concern. Behind her, her wand was madly stirring a pot on the stove. "Are you alright?"  
  
"Yeah," Hermione replied faintly, a small idea forming in her brain. But she pushed the thought aside, although it remained firmly rooted in the rest of her conscious being. Now was not the time for dreamy thoughts. "I'm just a little off today, that's all."  
  
"Today, yesterday and probably tomorrow," Shelby replied in her brisk manner. "Maybe you should have that condition checked out."  
  
At the sound of the word 'condition', Hermione winced, for that was exactly what she was afraid of. "No, I'm fine," she said with an artificial smile. "What are we having for lunch? I'm starved."  
  
Draco arrived home shortly afterwards and they indulged themselves in a lovely meal that suited the day just fine. After their lunch, they sat outside on the swinging seat while the kitchen staff cleaned up.  
  
"How was work?" Hermione asked, still feeling a little queasy. She had put on a big show of eating everything she possibly could so that Draco would not think anything was wrong.  
  
"Fine, once we got everything sorted out," Draco said, leaning back into the chair. "I knew that if I come home, though, I would not want to head back."  
  
"I don't blame you," Hermione muttered, staring into the blue sky. She almost wished she had to work that day for fear of acute boredom. That's usually what happened when she had a day off work after working for such a long string of days. Her mind kept flashing to the one subject she wanted to avoid and finally, without further notice, her mind managed to amble out a coherent sentence.  
  
"Do you want to have kids?"  
  
Draco looked at her before reverting his eyes back towards the roof above them. "Is that a subtle hint for something?" he asked, his eyes twinkling happily.  
  
"No," she replied, looking down at the deck. "It was just a question."  
  
"Well, one day I do."  
  
"Why not now?"  
  
He heaved a tremendous sigh. "I don't know. I guess I'm just scared that I'm going to treat our children the way my father treated me. Not that I think I will, but it's one of those subconscious things. It's always there."  
  
Hermione nodded, unable to speak as another wave of dizziness washed over her. She managed to keep her head as Draco jumped up and proclaimed that he had to get back to work.  
  
"I'll see you tonight," he said, kissing her gently on the cheek. She only nodded, her eyes transfixed on some faraway scene. When he was gone, she took a deep breath before standing up. She hoped that these feelings were going to pass soon. 


	3. Secret Lies

Friday arrived and still Hermione's health wasn't top notch. Due to the fact that they were hosting a celebration the following day, she decided that it was time for a visit to her doctor.  
  
Dr. Haggler worked from St. Mungo's Hospital. He was a short, stout man with very little hair atop his head. He wore black thick-rimmed glasses that made him look like an oversized bug. However, his personality was what struck Hermione so deeply; he was a caring man and only had his patients' best intentions in mind. When Hermione Apparated into his office on Friday afternoon, after leaving work early, he greeted her with a smile.  
  
"Mrs. Malfoy! How nice to see you! I trust everything is well?" He gestured for her to take a seat in the chair beside his desk where he was working.  
  
"Everything's going well," she answered, returning the smile, "but I've been feeling a little sluggish and ill lately. We're hosting a party at our house tomorrow and I want to be in good shape, if not great shape."  
  
Dr. Haggler nodded, concern creasing his middle-aged face. "Let's take a look, shall we?" He approached her in the chair, wand out before changing his mind. "Why don't you lie down on the examination table instead? You might feel more comfortable."  
  
Hermione obliged and climbed on to the small platform of a table where she lay down and immediately felt sleepy. However, her mind kept her awake with racing thoughts as Dr. Haggler ran his wand over her body, about three inches in the air. It was like he was scanning her for something. When his wand shuddered, he moved it back to the spot where it had begun to act funny.  
  
"Hmmm," he said, his brow creased. He poked at Hermione's abdomen for several moments, causing much discomfort for her. She was just about to ask him to stop when he told her to sit up.  
  
"It's not bad news," he assured her with a smile, sitting back at his desk. "Not bad news at all. If I'm correct, and very rarely is my wand wrong, you are expecting a baby."  
  
Hermione's mind felt numb, although relief swept through her body for at least knowing the truth. She had expected this; it was as if little alarms were ringing in her head. Subconsciously her hand found its way to her stomach as Dr. Haggler filled her in on the details.  
  
"You're about six weeks along, as far as I can tell. My prediction is," he screwed up his face and aimed his wand at her stomach again. A jet of pale yellow light followed a short incantation. "Your baby will be due on November 27th," he determined finally.  
  
"Wow." No matter how much Hermione expected this, her mind still reeled with a mix of excitement and fear. She wasn't sure what kind of a mother she would make. Dr. Haggler must have sensed her hesitation for he stood up from his desk chair and put his arm around her.  
  
"Congratulations," he said softly. "You and Mr. Malfoy will be great parents." He glanced at his watch. "You should be getting home. I imagine you'll want to tell him soon."  
  
"Yeah," Hermione muttered as Dr. Haggler began instructing her on her own health and care.  
  
"Don't do anything you normally wouldn't do," he directed her. "But you're fine to run your life as you would usually. If you're not already, start eating right and take it easy. When you start to feel dizzy or nauseous, sit down and take deep breaths. You'll be fine," he repeated, smiling at her encouragingly.  
  
Hermione left the office that day and walked a few blocks from the hospital before Apparating back home. A glance at the clock there told her it was a quarter to five; Draco would be home sooner than expected. Quickly, she hurried upstairs for a shower, her mind still racing.  
  
When she returned back downstairs, she found Chevy cutting up carrots. "Mr. Malfoy won't be home for dinner," she told her in a brisk voice and Hermione didn't bother to correct her on the name. "He sent an owl to say that there's been a few problems with the Floo network and he'll be home as soon as he can. I guess it's a good thing you didn't try to take the network to get to the hospital." She looked up at Hermione's face and stopped short. "So? What did Dr. Haggler say? Is everything alright?"  
  
"Oh, everything's fine," Hermione replied airily, waving her hand and stealing a carrot from the cutting board. "Where's Shelby?"  
  
"Right here," came a muffled voice from behind her. Hermione spun around to see Shelby struggling into the kitchen, her arms full of laundry baskets.  
  
"Let me help!" Hermione cried, dashing to Shelby's rescue. They managed to settle the four baskets by the table and Hermione helped Shelby fold the clothes. "How has everything been here today?"  
  
"Fine, as usual," Shelby replied, folding a pair of socks. "You got quite a few junk owls from places that want to sell you long distance owl rates and rubbish like that. I tore them up."  
  
"Good." Hermione finished folding one of her blouses for work. "So Draco didn't say when he'd be home tonight?"  
  
Chevy shook her head. "Nope. Just said they had a backup on the Floo network and people were dropping out of random fireplaces like flies. I'm just glad you didn't take the Floo network earlier or else we might have been making dinner for no reason."  
  
Shelby looked up. "Right, you're appointment. How did it go?"  
  
"Fine."  
  
"No medication? Nothing serious?"  
  
"Nope. Just overworked," Hermione lied. She considered the help some of her closest friends but for some reason, them finding out about the baby before Draco didn't seem right.  
  
Shelby shook her head in a condescending way. "I don't know why they work you so much over there. You're still young; you need to save your strength." Shelby stopped folding and bent over slowly to ease her own aching back. "Lord knows some day it will catch up to you."  
  
Hermione was listening, but her mind had tuned out. She had considered everyone's reaction so far, except for two very important people: Harry and Ron. Ron, especially, had never taken the marriage seriously, even after so many years. Now, with Hermione pregnant, it would finally sink in to him that Hermione and Draco were married and married for good. How was she going to tell him? A letter seemed too impersonal; especially after three years without contact. It didn't seem right to drop him an owl saying, "Hey there, Ron, sorry we haven't chatted in so long. By the way, I'm pregnant. Hope to talk to you in another three years, love Hermione." No, that simply wouldn't do.  
  
Draco didn't arrive home until well after midnight. He climbed into bed exhausted and Hermione pretended she was asleep. She didn't want to tell him just yet; not to mention the fact that she wasn't sure how. She wanted it to be special. Almost afraid of his reaction, given recent conversations, she couldn't truly picture how he would act. Sometimes, she assumed that he would act like a child and throw a temper tantrum in front of her. Other times, she guessed that he would take the news like a man and be happy for the fact that he would have someone else to share his love with. Hermione drifted off into sleep, confused, yet strangely exhilarated. 


	4. Sour Celebrations

Saturday morning, Hermione carried her secret with her like a weapon. She felt overly powerful with the fact that she could easily drop the bombshell at any time and shock her unsuspecting husband.  
  
Hermione's parents didn't arrive until after noon but Lucius and Narcissa had yet to show up. The quartet waited patiently for the no-shows but after several restless hours, attitudes changed and food became more important.  
  
"Here's to the new booming business!" Draco cheered, holding up his goblet full of Firewhiskey. He had given Hermione a strange look when she refused the heavily alcoholic drink and requested water instead. "May all your future luck with the business be wonderful!" Their goblets clinked together softly and a smooth voice was heard from behind the picnic table.  
  
"You couldn't wait for us?"  
  
Lucius Malfoy and his wife Narcissa appeared in front of the happy group. Slowly, smiles faded and goblets were lowered back to their original positions on the table.  
  
"It's almost two-thirty, Dad; we weren't going to wait all day," Draco started but Lucius waved his son's comments away like a bug.  
  
"No need for excuses," he charged, his eyes flashing at the group. He had never approved that Draco had married Hermione Granger, a girl unworthy of existing on this earth in his mind. It was common knowledge that Lucius had always planned for Draco to marry a pureblood and carry on the tradition. Little did he know, Hermione and Draco were starting their own tradition.  
  
"I'm starving," Lucius continued in his cool, smooth voice. He took a seat at the end of the table beside Hermione and Narcissa sat across from him beside Mr. and Mrs. Granger. She appeared nicer to the Muggle couple; she gave them a soft smile and a quick hello before receiving a nasty look from her husband.  
  
The food was brought out and all previous squabbles were forgotten. Hermione caught Draco giving his father snide looks when he thought she wasn't looking, but averted his eyes back to his plate when he noticed her attention.  
  
The sun shone down on them and Hermione slowly picked at her food. Now would be the perfect time to break the news to the family, since they were all together, but she would much rather tell Draco in private before sharing with the rest of the family. It would be nice to give him a chance to get used to the idea of an addition to their family before bringing others the news.  
  
"That was wonderful," Lucius commented, leaning back on the bench and rubbing his stomach. "Even if we did have to share the meal with Muggles."  
  
Mr. Granger glared at Lucius over his plate while Hermione's mother set down her fork, evidently having lost her appetite. Hermione was just grateful that the term 'Mudbloods' didn't come up for it was not an entirely civilized conversation piece. What was Lucius going to say when he heard that a Muggle born was carrying his grandchild?  
  
"Lucius, there's no need to be like that," Narcissa piped up, taking a sip out of her goblet.  
  
Hermione could felt the heat beating down on her shoulders and it made her feel suffocated. She felt like she couldn't breathe and everyone around her was just closing in, waiting for the kill.  
  
"Be like what, Narcissa, dear?"  
  
It was almost unbearable. The combination of the heat and the intense animosity raging between the two families was soon to explode. Hermione just didn't know when.  
  
"Act like you don't enjoy the company of Mr. and Mrs. Granger."  
  
There was a slight breeze but it didn't last nearly long enough. She could feel the pressure in the air, building up, waiting for the spark.  
  
"I don't." Lucius turned to give a large smile to the Grangers. "Normally I don't associate with Mudbloods like yourselves. But since our children are married, it seems I have no other choice."  
  
"I'm pregnant!" Hermione burst out. She had been waiting for that explosion and finally Lucius had hit the right note. The words tumbled out of her mouth, her weapon exposed. There was no going back now.  
  
Draco dropped his goblet onto the table. Firewhiskey spread quickly over the table and Mrs. Granger jumped up to avoid the leakage. Five pairs of eyes gawked at Hermione as she calmly took a sip of water.  
  
"It's hot out here, don't you think?" she asked before standing up, tears rushing to her eyes, and hurrying back towards the house. She had expected at least her own parents to break out in smiles. Instead, they stared at her like they thought she was a creature from outer space. And she expected better from Draco. Yes, it was a shock to him, but no more than it was to her. His eyes had gone hazy and a funny look came over his face like he didn't know what to say. It was all too much.  
  
She collapsed inside the main foyer hallway and sat on the floor, waiting for the tears to come. They burned behind her eyes but would not fall. "Anger," she thought to herself. She was angry for the way everyone reacted, especially her own husband.  
  
Footsteps to her left resounded in the empty hall. Turning her head slightly, Hermione saw Draco's shadow looming over her. "What do you want?" she asked bitterly, wiping away the few stray tears that had escaped.  
  
"To congratulate my wife," he replied softly, sliding down the wall to sit beside her.  
  
"On what? Ruining what was supposed to be a celebration for my parents?"  
  
"No." When she looked at him, she was surprised to see that he was grinning. "Congratulations for shocking the hell out of my father; his jaw's still hanging open."  
  
Hermione burst out into fits of giggles. The picture of Lucius Malfoy looking undignified was too much for her. She began laughing uncontrollably and soon Draco joined in. "You really did a number on him," he commented.  
  
"I know." She wiped her eyes, a mixture of tears of laughter and anger flowing down her cheeks. "What did my parents do after I left?"  
  
Draco grinned. "Your mother burst into tears and started crying, 'I'm going to be a grandmother!' Your father was smiling from ear to ear, telling anyone who would listen all the things he was going to do with his grandchild."  
  
"And your mother?"  
  
"Laughed at my father."  
  
"Seriously?"  
  
"Oh yeah." Draco smiled. "And I'm still in shock, but I'll be honest. I haven't felt this wonderful since I married you."  
  
Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck. What a wonderful, perfect thing to say.  
  
Hermione rejoined the party outside after her tears had dried (many of them being wiped on Draco's shirt). A round of cheers and many hugs from her parents and Narcissa greeted her. Hermione hadn't seen Narcissa look this alive in years; normally her thin face was sallow and unhappy. But now her face was bursting with sunshine and glee.  
  
"Congratulations to the new parents-to-be!" cheered Mr. Granger, holding up his goblet. Draco had poured another of Firewhiskey for himself and another of water for Hermione. "May the best wishes be extended to them, too!"  
  
"Hear, hear!" Narcissa cried, looking rather girlish at the moment. She was blushing, although it could have been from the Firewhiskey she had just gulped down. However, she was staring at her husband with a look of sour hatred on her pretty face.  
  
Lucius was still staring resentfully at the ground. He looked rather like a child sulking when he couldn't get his way. When Mr. Granger asked him his opinion of the matter (and it was done so quite unwillingly), Lucius replied, "Well, it's quite a shock."  
  
"Of course it's a shock!" Mrs. Granger cried. "Even when it's a planned pregnancy, it's always a shock!" She giggled like a schoolgirl and clinked her goblet together with Narcissa's.  
  
"Was this a planned pregnancy?" Lucius asked carefully, looking as though he was trying not to lose his temper.  
  
"Didn't the look on my face tell you anything?" Draco retorted and Lucius looked back towards the ground, obviously unhappy with the outcome. But Hermione didn't care; she had her husband, mother, father and mother-in- law behind her. Now if she could just get support from Harry and Ron, she would be set. 


	5. Letters

Dear Harry and Ron,  
  
I don't know why I'm writing this to the both of you but since you're usually together, I figured this might be the best way.  
  
I know it's been a long time since we talked; three years the last time I checked. I'm sorry for not keeping in contact but it's hard enough for me, keeping up with a house, a husband and a job. But I have some news: now I will also have a family to look after.  
  
Yes, I'm pregnant. It wasn't planned or anything but I'm in my mid- twenties now; I think it's about time I get started on a family. I've always wanted a large family and I guess this is as good a place to start as any.  
  
Please be happy for me. I really want to rekindle our friendship. We had such good times during our years together and I really don't want to lose that. Please owl me back as soon as you get this and let me know how you all are. With love, Hermione.  
  
She stopped writing and re-read the letter. Something just didn't sound right. Should she wait to send the letter or mail it now and get it over with? It was a big decision and she was having a difficult time making it.  
  
It was the Sunday after the celebration. Both Mrs. Granger and Narcissa Malfoy had gone home pretty intoxicated. The husbands dutifully followed and Hermione could help but laugh at the dejected look on Lucius' face; finally something he feared had happened right under his suspicious nose and he couldn't do a damn thing about it.  
  
Hermione and Draco spent much of the night up in the sitting room, going over names they thought were fitting and names they thought were outrageous.  
  
"Who names their kid Gouda?" crowed Draco near the break of morning. "Or veal? If you name our child Bologna, I will leave you, I swear it."  
  
Hermione was laughing so hard that tears were rolling down her cheeks. The prospect of the future Malfoy generation having names like "Veal", and "Gouda" were too funny for her to comprehend. "Wouldn't your father love that?" she giggled.  
  
They had gone to bed near five in the morning and Hermione had awoken around noon to find Draco up and dressed. She had ate a quick lunch ("You're eating for two now," Draco ordered) and started her letter to Ron and Harry. After many drafts, she could only come up with what sounded pathetic to her ears. It wasn't easy, writing to friends you haven't spoken to in so long. Any passerby would have thought they had gotten into a fight the previous time they spoke but this was not the case. In fact it was quite the opposite.  
  
"We'll always be friends," Harry had vowed as he pressed his forehead against Hermione's. Ron joined them, and repeated Harry's promise.  
  
"Always," he echoed.  
  
Hermione had felt the fullest when she was with her friends. Not that her relationship with Draco was unfulfilling but it's a different kind of friendship you share with your husband than your childhood friends. .  
Hermione tucked the letter away, deciding to look it over later. Some days the words just flowed out of her and others it seemed that a barrier had been put up in her mind that blocked all logical thought from getting through. It would be better to wait for one of those logical days before accepting the letter as it was.  
  
She leaned back at her desk and stared out the window in front of her. The rain that had been promised for the weekend was now delivered; it came down in heavy buckets, quite the opposite from yesterday's weather. Hermione was glad it had waited. She didn't like being with Lucius Malfoy outside in a wide-open space; being cooped up with him under a roof would be twice the pain.  
  
Squinting her eyes into the distance, she noticed something flying towards the house. "A broom, a carpet, a U.F.O.?" she questioned as it flew towards the house. She saw the owl soar into an upstairs window and she scrambled up to the bedroom to see whom it was from.  
  
Draco was in the basement tinkering with something that he had bought in Diagon Alley a few weeks ago. It was similar to a Muggle air hockey table but kept shooting heavy aims of the little disk at its unsuspecting player. Draco had almost received two black eyes from the machine already, yet he continued to try and figure out what went wrong.  
  
The letter that had arrived bore the Hogwarts crest; Hermione felt a swell of pride and joy burst into her heart as she ripped open the envelope. The writing was tiny and lopsided; she couldn't remember seeing it before.  
  
"Dear Ms. Granger," she read to herself, sitting on the bed with one foot tucked under her. "It is with the lightest of hearts that I congratulate you on your expectant bundle of joy. We are most pleased here at Hogwarts upon hearing the news, especially since one Lucius Malfoy took such pain in telling us. We wish you the best." The letter was signed with signatures from every Hogwarts' professor, starting with Professor Dumbledore's in the same precise, tiny writing. Hagrid's was large and sloppy and contained a loopy happy face; Professor McGonagall's was straight and upright and reminded Hermione heavily of the professor herself.  
  
She smiled, holding the letter close to her heart. Professor Dumbledore knew how much Hogwarts meant to her and if she couldn't share this experience with Ron and Harry, the least she could do was share it with the staff at Hogwarts.  
  
She had just sat down and begun to write back when a yelp of pain could be heard from several floors below. She stood up and rushed for the stairs just in time to see Draco staggering around blindly.  
  
"Damn thing hit me in the eye!" he cried, holding his left eye. "And apparently it talks, too. Told me I was a worthless loser."  
  
"What did you do to it?" Hermione asked, descending the staircase, staring down her husband with a look. He grinned sheepishly and ducked his head.  
  
"Kicked it."  
  
Hermione nodded knowingly. "So it threw a disk at your eye; do you blame it?"  
  
"No."  
  
Hermione tended to Draco's eye and he escaped without any bruising or cuts. After that, she considered going back upstairs to try and finish her letter to Hogwarts but she felt that the creativity had temporarily abandoned her mind. Instead, she curled up on the sofa in front of the fire in the sitting room and watched as the lightning flashed across the sky. Thunder rumbled through the house as Draco's cries of anger and pain floated up from the lower level.  
  
The next few weeks passed in something of a blur to Hermione. She had told select people at work that she was pregnant and they all reacted with big smiles and congratulatory hugs. Narcissa and Mrs. Granger were forever dropping by with little outfits they had seen that they thought were adorable or things that they felt Hermione would need to keep her strength up. Her boss had lightened her schedule considerably, giving Hermione plenty more free time at home to organize and start preparing a baby's room.  
  
She still had written to Harry and Ron. She assumed that if Professor Dumbledore knew about it, Harry and Ron would weasel it out of him somehow; they kept in very close contact with their old professors, or at least they did the last time Hermione had spoken with them.  
  
The baby's room had been chosen and was being prepared in pale green and yellow. "They're neutral colours," Hermione explained to Draco as she pasted up wallpaper with her wand. Little yellow ducks decorated the pale green strips and little green frogs garnished the yellow strips. "That way, it doesn't matter if we have a boy or a girl; the colours are unisex."  
  
That sparked another conversation: did Hermione want a boy or a girl? On the outside, she said it didn't matter, as long as they baby was healthy. But on the inside, she was secretly hoping for a girl. She couldn't wait to dress up her daughter in little dresses.  
  
Draco, however, was adamant that he wanted a boy. "It would be so cool to dress him up in baby Quidditch robes!"  
  
"You can dress a girl in Quidditch robes, too," Hermione replied indignantly. "Both males and females play the sport."  
  
Draco had just looked suddenly sullen, a flash of his days at Hogwarts forming over his head. He had played on the Slytherin Quidditch team and no girls participated in the sport. Hermione couldn't blame him for being narrow-minded in that area.  
  
Every day, Hermione added more and more to the letter to Ron and Harry until it was well over four feet of parchment. Finally, one day almost three weeks after the celebration party in which Hermione had blurted out her secret, she rolled up the long parchment and attached it to the family owl, Lindy. She petted her on the head softly before she headed out into the night. It was out of her hands; now all she could do was wait patiently for a reply. 


	6. Old Friends, New Life

Two months passed with no word from either Harry or Ron. Lindy had returned from her journey three days later with no reply, much to Hermione's disappointment. She spent much of her time during the two months reading up on what to expect during a pregnancy and fighting exhaustion. She found herself resting more and more often, hoping that she could fight off the impending sleepiness. She also found it difficult to maintain one emotion for too long. Often she was irritable, cheerful, and sad all within a two-minute time period. Her morning sickness continued, although slowly drifting away, but headaches replaced any sickness some mornings. She also noticed that, although only slightly, her pregnancy was beginning to show. She only noticed this in the shower; it could not be noticed through her clothing.  
  
Hermione was writing in her journal that she kept for all her thoughts and feelings on one Thursday afternoon when a knock sounded at the door. Puzzled as to who her visitor could be, she rushed to the door, beating the house help there. "I'll get it, thanks," she told them, pulling open the door.  
  
Her scream of joy brought the help running back to the foyer. Hermione stood holding the door open, staring in wonder.  
  
Harry and Ron's grins beamed back at her. "Hey Hermione," Harry said, entering the house and kissing her gently on the cheek. He stepped past her and stood his suitcase up by the wall. Looking around, he nodded in approval. "Nice," he commented.  
  
Ron's greeting was much more ambitious. "I can't believe I'm seeing you again!" he cried, picking her up and swinging her around. Hermione didn't have the heart to tell him that she would be sick if he did that again. He threw his luggage down on the floor by Harry's and marched around the front foyer. "Do you ever get lost in here?" he questioned.  
  
"What are you guys doing here?" Hermione asked, closing the door quietly. Her face was alight with smiles and her eyes were dancing merrily. "Why didn't you just write me back?"  
  
"We wanted to say hi to our best friend in person," Harry commented, wandering around the foyer in awe. "Especially when she's having a baby."  
  
"I'm due in November," Hermione revealed to them, secretly wishing that they would stay until then. Ever since her work schedule had been cut so drastically, she had found herself incredibly bored during her time at home alone. She desperately needed some company and what better company to have than her two best friends?  
  
Neither of the boys had changed that much; Ron's hair was still fiery red and Harry's was still as out of control then ever before. They both wore identical grins and the three friends stood in shock and silence for a few moments, unsure of what to say.  
  
"You haven't changed much," Harry commented, looking Hermione over. "I hope Malfoy's treating you well. If not, Mad Eye Moody is still willing to turn him into a ferret."  
  
Hermione winced at the memory of their fourth year. "Everything's fine," she assured them, nodding to the help to let them know that she was okay and that they could go back to the kitchen. "Draco's changed a lot since our schooldays."  
  
"I remember," Ron said bitterly, chewing at a fingernail. "We were at your wedding, remember?"  
  
"Will Malfoy mind if we stay here?" Harry asked, but Ron interrupted him.  
  
"Do we care what Malfoy thinks?"  
  
"I, personally, don't care how long you stay," Hermione told them honestly, "but staying until the baby's born is a little extreme." She paused as a thought occurred to her. "Where are you guys living anyway?"  
  
"Ron's still living at home," Harry filled in as they trucked through the kitchen to the sitting room. "I'm renting a small place near the Burrow; we're both working at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Fred and George expanded and now have a chain of stores."  
  
"How many?" Hermione asked as she lowered herself into a large armchair by the fire.  
  
"Two in total," Ron piped up, gawking at the enormous sitting room. "Theirs and ours. I know, you can't stand the excitement." He gave a huge sigh and grinned again. "It is good to see you again, though."  
  
"I still can't believe you're here!" Hermione cried. She immediately felt tears spring to her eyes. It was wonderful to see her friends after so long; absence makes the heart grow fonder and Hermione couldn't have felt closer to her friends than she did right then.  
  
"Hello!" Draco's voice echoed through the house and Hermione froze. She knew Draco wouldn't get angry but what would his reaction be?  
  
"In here!" she called back, ignoring the warning looks from Harry and Ron. She relaxed calmly in the chair and watched Draco's face contort as he spotted the visitors. "Honey, we have guests."  
  
Ron looked absolutely mortified at the sound of Hermione calling Draco 'Honey' but he chose to keep his mouth shut and smile tightly. Harry repeated his actions and Draco nodded at them both slowly.  
  
"Is that your luggage in the foyer?" he asked almost painfully.  
  
Harry took great joy and replying, "Yep. That's ours. Enough stuff in there for three weeks."  
  
Draco's smile grew as his eyes widened with more pain. "I'll have the help take it up to the guest rooms," he told them before leaving the room for the kitchen. As soon as he was gone, Ron began hooting with laughter.  
  
"Did you see his face?" he cried, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "Harry, that was brilliant! But we only packed enough for a week."  
  
"I know," Harry replied, grinning slyly. "I just wanted to make him suffer."  
  
Hermione smiled and laughed aloud. It was great to have her friends back.  
  
Later on that night, after everyone had gotten settled, Hermione headed up to bed, feeling exhausted. Draco soon joined her and they heard the two boys tiptoe past their room to their own guest rooms, whispering quietly.  
  
"Are they really staying for three weeks?" Draco asked, trying to be sweet about the whole situation. Ever since he discovered that Hermione was pregnant, he was taking extra precautions not to upset her.  
  
"No," she confessed, smiling as she turned away from him. "They're only staying for a week."  
  
She could hear him breathe a sigh of relief. "Not that I mind," he added quickly. "I just wanted to know is all."  
  
"Right," Hermione said, her smile growing. It was thoughtful of Draco to add on the complete lie for her sake, but she rather he tell the truth. It wasn't as if she didn't notice the immense tension all evening. Supper was uneventful but as they sat in the sitting room after dinner, Hermione could have cried at the amount of unsaid insults that were being flung in every direction. Draco couldn't help bringing up the times that Slytherin beat Gryffindor in Quidditch, mainly due to Ron's lack of Keeper ability. Harry couldn't help mentioning 'ferret' in any sentence possible and Ron shot dirty looks at Draco the entire night. All in all, considering there was no bloodshed, Hermione thought it went rather well.  
  
"I have another doctor's appointment on Tuesday," she told Draco. "It's at five-fifteen at the hospital. I would really enjoy it if you came with me."  
  
"That's fine," Draco replied, shutting off the lights with a wave of his wand. "I'll leave early from work." He turned over to go to sleep and Hermione could tell that he was kind of angry that she hadn't discussed her friends staying at the house with him. If she had known, she might have said something, but she didn't want to start and argue with him about it now. Instead, she mustered the strength to bury her face in the covers, fighting a mad urge to laugh at the entire situation, and tried to fall asleep. 


	7. Distance

The appointment with Dr. Haggler on Tuesday afternoon went well. She was well into her fourth month by this time and Dr. Haggler informed her that she might be able to feel a butterfly-type of movement in her stomach.  
  
"Wait until after you've eaten and you're relaxed and comfortable," he told her, smiling as she consciously put her hand to her stomach. "You might be able to feel the butterflies."  
  
Hermione took this advice and spent most of Tuesday evening on the couch with her hand to her stomach. She didn't feel much of anything except for a few light flutters on the inside.  
  
Harry and Ron sat on the sofa across from her, watching her with intent interest. Draco was hovering about the doorway, surveying the scene through cold eyes. He wasn't entirely sure he liked having these old friends of Hermione's in the house, but he didn't want to upset her by telling her to have them leave. Hermione had promised they were only staying until Thursday; he was sure he could make himself behave for two more days.  
  
"Have you thought about names?" Harry asked, sitting back on the sofa and stretching out.  
  
Hermione glanced at Draco. "Well, we were thinking Gouda Malfoy," she said seriously, relishing the looks of horror on their faces. "Or maybe Bologna Malfoy if it's a girl."  
  
Ron sputtered. "You have got to be kidding me!"  
  
"Nope." Hermione shook her head. "It was Draco's idea."  
  
"Yeah," Draco chipped in. "Veal Malfoy was an option, too, but we liked the sound of Gouda better."  
  
She couldn't take it anymore. Hermione burst out laughing at the dismayed looks on her friends' faces. "We're joking!" she cried, throwing her hands up in the air. "I mean, they were considerations, but they were eliminated early in the drafting."  
  
Harry sighed and relaxed even deeper into the sofa. "Thank goodness you were joking. I don't want to think of the teasing that poor child would go through." He took another sip of his Butterbeer. "Seriously, though, what names have you decided on?"  
  
"We've eliminated about fifty," Hermione said, motioning for Draco to sit beside her. "And that leaves us with about ninety nine right now."  
  
Draco took the spot on the arm of the chair Hermione was sitting in. "It was a tough decision," he said mockingly.  
  
Ron looked stunned. "How are you going to choose in time?"  
  
"Ron, we still have almost five months to go!"  
  
"Almost four," Draco reminded her.  
  
"Whatever the time period is," Hermione snapped, "we still have plenty of time to think about it." She finished her drink of pumpkin juice and yawned. "I think I'll go up to bed soon. I'm feeling a little sluggish."  
  
"I'll go with you," Draco said, finishing his own drink of Butterbeer and setting the mug down on the table.  
  
Hermione stared at him. "Why? You never go to bed before eleven; it's almost nine."  
  
"Yeah." Draco faked a yawn. "I'm a little tired myself from a long day. Have a good night," he said to Ron and Harry before heading up the staircase. "I'll meet you upstairs, Hermione."  
  
"Yeah," she said, waving distantly at him. "Are you guys staying up for awhile?"  
  
Harry nodded. "I am. I've got a lot to daydream about."  
  
"When's that ever changed?" Ron questioned and ducked to avoid being whacked with a pillow that was behind Harry. "Sorry, but it's true." He looked back to Hermione.  
  
"We're going to leave Thursday morning. We've got to get back to the store."  
  
"And back to Abby," Harry teased. "Heaven forbid you don't get that date in Thursday night."  
  
Hermione felt another pang of misery. Ron was hurrying away from her when he hadn't seen her in three years to meet up with a girl he's only known for a few weeks? That hurt, she had to admit, and she hurried upstairs to bed before they had a chance to question her on it.  
  
"You just didn't want to stay down there with them alone," Hermione said after Draco had turned out the lights that night. "You're such a chicken."  
  
"Maybe I am," Draco confessed. "But at least I'm a nice enough guy to pretend to be nice to your friends when secretly I can't stand them."  
  
"That's not such a secret anymore, is it?" Hermione muttered, burying her face in her pillow. Her hand was still on her stomach as she was hoping to feel something other than the fluttering that felt like she was extremely nervous.  
  
"I guess not." Draco was silent for a moment and Hermione started to drift off. "Why do you like them still?"  
  
Her eyes popped back open. "Harry and Ron?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
She shrugged into the darkness. "I don't know. They're my best friends from school; shouldn't I like them? Is there something wrong with that?"  
  
"No, nothing wrong," Draco replied quickly before Hermione had a chance to get upset. "I was just wondering what they have that I don't."  
  
"Their own store," Hermione joked. She rolled over and kissed him on the cheek. "I married you, though, didn't I?"  
  
"Yeah. But why did you want to keep in contact with them? You haven't talked for so long."  
  
"I told you," she answered. "They were my school friends. Unlike someone else who called me a Mudblood every chance they got and tried to make my life a living hell."  
  
"Please don't bring Crabbe or Goyle into this," Draco joked and Hermione shoved him playfully.  
  
"I'm going to sleep now," she said, rolling back over to face the window. "I have to work early in the morning. Goodnight."  
  
"Night."  
  
Darkness closed in deeper as Draco's breathing became steadier. But no matter how tired she was, Hermione still lay awake. What Draco had asked got her thinking. Why did she really want to hang around with Ron and Harry? They hadn't gone to any lengths to make contact over the three years either. They were just as guilty as she was. And why was she busting her butt to keep her friendship with them when Ron wasn't even willing to stay the full day of Thursday because he had a date with another girl? Was it really worth it?  
  
No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, there was a pulsating memory in the back of her brain. It showed the teenage Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, being playful and goofy with one another. But the two men sitting in her living room were different. Sure, they made the same jokes and laughed at the same things, but there was something different about them that Hermione couldn't quite put her finger on. Maybe it was the fact that the two of them had single-handedly destroyed her living room with a party that seemed to last all weekend long. Or maybe it was the fact that Ron talked non-stop about his newfound love. Or maybe it was the fact that Harry hadn't been the same since their fifth year when he lost someone he truly cared for.  
  
Or maybe they had just grown apart. 


	8. Changes

Early Wednesday morning, Hermione hurried out to work with the burden of last night's thoughts on her mind. She got through most of the day in a fog and returned home around two in the afternoon to find Harry there alone.  
  
He was in the sitting room on the armchair, his feet propped up on the footstool, reading the Daily Prophet. He smiled when he saw her, his eyes lighting up, and set down the paper to talk.  
  
"They haven't changed," he commented as Hermione took a seat on the sofa across from him. "The Daily Prophet, I mean. They will still print anything that's not even remotely accurate."  
  
"They're more like the Quibbler now than anything," Hermione agreed. She was having an internal struggle; dare she tell Harry how she felt that the three of them had grown apart or should she keep it to herself? She didn't want to force a friendship that truly wasn't there. On the other hand, she wanted to cling onto it and not let go for the life of her. It was her one link back to sanity and back to the days she loved best at Hogwarts. It was Harry and Ron that made the memories bright; it was Harry and Ron that made the days happy after Draco had shot them down. How could she think of telling them that they had grown apart?  
  
"You look thoughtful," Harry commented, sitting up straight and looking at her, concern flashing through his eyes. "Are you okay?"  
  
She smiled quickly. "Fine. Just a little tired is all."  
  
"Why don't you lie down for a bit? I'll wake you before supper."  
  
She shook her head. "Where's Ron?"  
  
"Shopping. Hogsmeade. He was thrilled when he found out how close you guys lived." He grew serious. "I sometimes think he's rushing things with Abby. I know he likes her and all but I don't want him to push anything."  
  
Hermione's heart began to beat rapidly and the butterflies returned to her stomach, although she was sure this time that it wasn't the baby. "What does that have to do with shopping in Hogsmeade?" she questioned.  
  
Harry sighed. "I shouldn't be telling you this right now because I'm not positive, but that hasn't stopped me before." He leaned closer to her after looking around. "I'm not sure but I think he's shopping for an engagement ring."  
  
Hermione's heart hit the floor. Here she was, happily married for four years, carrying her husband's baby, yet when she heard this news she felt like bursting into tears. It was like the final straw of the friendships. The Ron Weasley she knew would never be too anxious to jump into a final commitment like that.  
  
"I'm not sure," Harry repeated, "but it just seems weird the way he's always talking about how he'd like to get married one day and then he's out all the time in jewellery stores and such. I don't know what to think."  
  
Hermione forged a smile. "Good for him," she said weakly. "Excuse me." She hurried up the stairs, ignoring Harry's calls. Rushing into the washroom, she slammed the door and pelted her fists against it, tears of rage and gloom pouring down her cheeks. She sobbed heavily, not sure what had brought this on. She knew she had been emotional lately but this was unreal. She didn't want to make any snap decisions but the same thing that she had relied on in their friendship for the past who knew how many years wasn't there anymore. They just weren't clicking as they used to. There was no denying it: they had grown apart. Maybe Harry had stayed more the same than anything but Hermione couldn't very well keep her friendship with Harry and tell Ron that they weren't clicking anymore.  
  
Friendship was about being there for each other. And where had her friends been for the past three years? Where would Ron be Thursday night? Why did he have to choose this Abby over her? All of a sudden, she hated Ron, she hated Harry, she hated Abby, but most of all, she hated Draco and herself for putting herself in this mess. She hated the fact that Draco Malfoy, her once-sworn enemy, had become so charming. She hated the fact that he made her love him and she couldn't get out of it now, even if she wanted to. She hated the fact that Ron loved some other girl and not her. She hated that Harry was so serenely calm with everything, no matter how maddening or upsetting it was. She hated herself for falling into the trap of love and being ensnared by her pregnancy. But most of all, she hated life in general for dealing her such a hand.  
  
After she had emptied her eyes of their tears, she took Harry's advice and lay down for a few hours. When she awoke, Draco was leaning over her. "Rise and shine," he said softly, moving out of the way so she could sit up and rub the sleep out of her eyes. "Supper's ready; I didn't know if you wanted to be woken or not."  
  
"Is Ron here?"  
  
Draco looked utterly perplexed by this question but answered with a nod of his head. "He was here when I got home."  
  
Hermione noted the bitterness in his voice, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she climbed silently out of bed, accepted a gentle kiss from Draco and brushed her hair to suit her for the evening.  
  
Downstairs, Ron and Harry were involved in a deep discussion at the table. They halted when Hermione entered, making her sarcastically wonder whom they were talking about. "You're back," she said blatantly to Ron as she took her seat.  
  
"Yeah," he said, diving into his food. "I didn't want to stay out all day."  
  
"Right." The acrimony in her voice must have been noticeable because even Draco looked somewhat confounded by her tone. She continued to ignore them, picking at the food. She kept one hand on her stomach, unaware that she was still feeling for the butterfly movements.  
  
"Are you all packed for tomorrow?" Ron's voice broke through the strained silence and Hermione could practically hear Harry hit his forehead in annoyance. Why Ron chose that moment to break out with this comment, she would never know.  
  
"Yeah," Harry said quickly. "So Hermione, how was work today? Is the Three Broomsticks still the same as I remember it?"  
  
"Pretty much," Hermione answered, grateful for the change in subject. "The original owners left almost two years ago but the new owners decided to keep us on."  
  
Harry nodded. "That's good. It's harder and harder to find a job these days."  
  
Draco muttered something that sounded strangely like, "Maybe for you," but Hermione kicked him under the table and he coughed and took a drink of his water.  
  
"I can't wait to get back," Ron chattered, ignorant to the fact that everyone around him was doing their best to steer the conversation away from that topic. "The store will probably be in disarray, even though I gave Abby specific instructions on how to run things."  
  
"Abby?"  
  
Ron looked at Hermione in confusion. "Yes, Abby. Didn't I tell you? She works for us, too!" His face looked bright but fell as Hermione's turned stony. "Is there a problem with that?"  
  
"Nope," she answered shortly before pushing her chair back. "I'll be back," she practically whispered as she hurried away from the table. Out the back door she went and into the garden that she had worked so hard on in the past. Sitting hard on the small bench she had put there, she glanced around what used to be her pride and joy.  
  
The flowers were wilting slowly and the grass was dying. Hermione imagined it to be very much like her friendship with Ron. She had put so much into it for so many years and this was how she got treated. It wasn't the fact that Ron was dating a girl so much as it was he was so eager to get away from Hermione, when he hadn't seen her in three years. It seemed almost futile at this point; their friendship was as good as over.  
  
"Are you okay?" Harry's voice broke through the night. He sat down on the bench beside her.  
  
She nodded miserably before breaking into tears and shaking her head. "Not exactly," she managed to choke out.  
  
"Sorry about Ron," Harry said, gently touching her knee, "but you know how he is. Never thinks before he says things."  
  
"No kidding."  
  
They were silent for a few moments. Hermione felt extremely tired despite her few hours sleep prior to dinner. She yawned, her hand still unknowingly searching her stomach for any sign of movement.  
  
"What?" She had just noticed Harry smiling softly at her.  
  
"Can you feel anything?" he asked. Hermione looked down at her hand and smiled in spite of herself.  
  
"Not really. Just a few fluttering moments. Want to feel?"  
  
Harry nodded eagerly and placed his hand gently on Hermione's stomach. "You might not be able to feel it," she warned, pushing his hand into her middle. "You have to press hard."  
  
"I don't want to hurt you or the baby!" Harry cried but Hermione shook her head.  
  
"You won't."  
  
They waited for several minutes in silence before Harry's face lit up. "I think I felt something!" he cried, pushing a bit harder. Suddenly he looked up, confusion filling his face.  
  
"It's strange," he said slowly, withdrawing his hand. "You're sitting here, high in your mansion, as Mrs. Draco Malfoy."  
  
"Yeah?" Hermione wasn't completely understanding the concept behind this abrupt comment. "So what?"  
  
"Nothing really." He smiled again and Hermione saw a flicker of the old Harry Potter behind the glasses. "It's just that if anyone told me years ago that this was going to happen, I would have pronounced them crazy."  
  
"I agree," Hermione said, laughing. "I've felt the same way. Some nights I wake up and stare into the darkness, almost panicking because I don't know where I am. Then I remember and it takes me a few minutes to recall why I'm married to Draco."  
  
"Why are you married to him?" Harry asked, suddenly very serious. His eyes had lost their shine and he was staring at her intently.  
  
"I don't know," Hermione replied honestly. "There's just something about him that's changed over the years. Something that I really can't explain." She looked Harry directly in the eye. "That doesn't mean that I've changed, though, has it?"  
  
It was Harry's turn to be serious. "I don't know," he finally answered. "I really don't know."  
  
He left soon after to go get some sleep but Hermione had the distinct feeling that he was thinking what she had been thinking; the three friends had drifted apart considerably. The question was, what to do about it? 


	9. Progress

Harry and Ron left early the next morning. Hermione had booked the morning off work and her boss had generously given her the entire day off. As she watched the boys depart, she felt tears spring to her eyes but was determined not to let them conquer her. She considered writing a letter to her mother to ask her for advice. After all, mothers were there to make it all better. Mothers were there to get rid of the bugs, nightmares and bad feelings. They were there to make everything alright.  
  
But something was holding her back. Her friendships with Harry and Ron were at stake and she felt that she had to make this decision on her own. It wasn't something as simple as what colour to paint the baby's room; this was a deep down, emotional decision that would affect the rest of her life.  
  
Hermione spent the day in deep thought and was surprised to hear the door open and Draco's voice. Glancing at her watch, she noted that it was almost five-thirty. Standing from her position on the armchair by the fireplace, she greeted her husband in the hallway.  
  
"Your friends left?" he asked as they headed into the kitchen.  
  
Hermione nodded, biting her lip. The past few hours had been really emotional and she made a mental note to get rid of all the tissues on the table in the sitting room before Draco could see them. "Yep," was her only reply.  
  
He gave her a funny look. "You okay?"  
  
"Yeah." Her voice faltered and she felt the heavy tears that had been threatening all day spring to her eyes. Most of the day had been filled with silent little tears but she was now a sobbing heap of mess. Draco gathered her in his arms and stroked her hair soothingly.  
  
"What's wrong?" he asked gently, lifting her head to face him. She continued to gulp air and sob, trying to speak.  
  
"I just feel like my friends and I have drifted apart and I don't know what to do about it!"  
  
Draco looked somewhat thoughtful. "I don't really believe that any friends can drift apart," he told her firmly. "If you meet a good friend, you're friends for life."  
  
"You don't know how I felt these past few days," she moaned, burying her head in his shoulder again. "You don't know what it was like to sit beside these guys and wonder how on earth they could have changed so much."  
  
"Did you think that maybe they were thinking the same thing?"  
  
She pulled her head up again. "What do you mean?"  
  
Draco shrugged. "Well, maybe they aren't the only ones that have changed."  
  
Hermione sat up, feeling angry. "I haven't changed!" she cried indignantly, so forcefully that Draco actually laughed.  
  
"Hermione, you're a Malfoy now," he told her, smiling. "You're going to give birth in a few months to a Malfoy. Twelve years ago, you wouldn't even look at me. You don't call that changing?"  
  
"Twelve years is a long time," Hermione replied softly.  
  
"Maybe three years is a long time to your friends."  
  
Hermione pondered this thought all through dinner, even though her appetite had fled. She was quiet right through the rest of the evening and lay in bed that night after Draco had gone to sleep, wondering if Harry and Ron really considered three years to be long enough to change a person. Harry hadn't really changed since she had seen him last; his major life change had occurred in their fifth year after losing someone very close to him. But she had noticed that Ron was much more careless about things than he had ever been before. It was true; Ron never thought before he spoke. But if he said something he knew upset her, like at the table the other night, he would have gone after her to make sure she was okay. As far as she knew, he hadn't asked anything about her.  
  
She felt another fluttering movement in her stomach. Her thoughts temporarily drifted, but not for long. She was going to be someone's mother. She was going to have more responsibility loaded on her than she had when she married Draco. She had a life growing inside her that depended on her for every little thing. It depended on her for nurturing and love and care. She had to grow up and start making decisions.  
  
But her decisions were halted the very next week. She had enrolled in parenting classes in Hogsmeade and she had enough trouble convincing Draco to go.  
  
"You don't want to be like your father?" she shot at him when he declined her invitation to the classes.  
  
"I'll never be like him!" he fumed. "I know better."  
  
"Then come with me," she pleaded. "Consider it your first step to being a good parent."  
  
After much convincing, she managed to talk him into it so the week after Harry and Ron had left, Hermione and Draco began their parenting classes. Draco found it rather humorous that the instructor of the course expected them to take home eggs and pretend they were children.  
  
"I can't believe he actually expects us to look after this thing," he joked, tossing it in the air on the way home. "This is going to be easy."  
  
"Don't!" Hermione cried, snatching the egg out of his hands before he could throw it again. "Are you going to throw our baby in the air like that?"  
  
"Of course not!" Draco replied, looking indignant. "I'll wait until they're older."  
  
The classes were held every Wednesday evening. After the first week, Hermione was ready to scream. Draco was insisting that she take the egg with her to work since his fellow workers would make fun of him.  
  
"Leave the thing at home then!" he declared when she refused to take it to work. "They'll never know."  
  
In the end, Hermione ended up taking the egg to work with her and had to prevent the cook from boiling the egg on several occasions.  
  
Two weeks after the course began, Hermione came home from the class and collapsed into a chair in the sitting room. Her back was aching and she was exhausted. She found at times that she had amazing energy but other times she could barely lift a finger.  
  
"I can't believe we have to look after this thing for another two weeks," groaned Draco, flopping down on the sofa across from her. "I mean, what's it prove anyway? An egg is very different from a baby."  
  
"Not really," Hermione replied. "A baby is fragile, like an egg and requires constant care and attention. You can't leave an egg rolling around on the counter like you can't leave a baby rolling around on the changing table."  
  
Draco snorted, but Hermione gave him a dirty look and continued. "Looking after these eggs is like looking after our children; it prepares us." She looked at Draco to see that he was almost asleep. "Well it prepares me," she said softly.  
  
The rest of the parenting classes went well and lasted well into Hermione sixth month. By the time they finished, she was convinced she knew more about babies than she ever had before. She finally felt almost fully prepared to accept a child into their home and she could tell that secretly Draco felt the same way.  
  
Hermione didn't have much time to ponder on Harry and Ron until her seventh month. It was then that she received an owl from Harry. "Sorry I haven't written in awhile," he wrote. "It's been pretty hectic here. The shop is really doing well and taking up most of our time. I do hope that you're well." Hermione noticed, as she rolled up the letter again, that the only time Ron was mentioned in the letter is to tell her that he said hi. She wondered what that could mean.  
  
Mrs. Granger threw Hermione a surprise baby shower close to the end of her seventh month. The early October weather had left every scrambling for warmer clothing. The warm atmosphere that had lasted throughout September suddenly took on a brief cold spell that seemed to be lasting longer than anyone had expected.  
  
Almost seventy women (friends of the Grangers', Narcissa Malfoy and a few of her close friends and some old acquaintances of Hermione's from Hogwarts) filled Hermione's house and threw her the grandest baby shower anyone had ever seen. Apart from being completely thrown off track, Hermione felt incredibly emotional and began crying every time she opened one of the lovely gifts.  
  
"It's only a baby jumpsuit!" Lavender Brown joked as Hermione burst into tears upon opening the elaborately wrapped gift.  
  
"Are you hoping for a boy or girl?" asked Padma Patil.  
  
"Do you know yet?" questioned Padma's twin sister Parvati.  
  
Hermione shook her head. "How can you stand the suspense?" someone from the back of the crowd cried and Hermione shrugged, wiping stray tears out of her eyes.  
  
"I don't know," she finally said. "Waiting is half the fun."  
  
But by the time she was halfway through her eighth month, she was ready to take that statement back. Her back and her ankles hurt. She was getting migraines worse than before and she felt even more tired than she had when she first found out she was pregnant. Dr. Haggler had prepared her to be energetic her last month but she was sorely proving him wrong. The only thing that kept her going was the kicking of her baby within her.  
  
However, Draco seemed to be missing out. Whenever the baby chose to kick, he was out of the room. Hermione would yell to him but he would never make it in time. "I don't think this kid likes me!" he cried in frustration when he had dashed downstairs for the fifth time, only to realize that the baby had stopped kicking again. "This isn't fair!"  
  
Hermione just laughed. It was funny to her.  
  
She received another owl from Harry a week later. "Owl us as soon as you have the baby," he instructed her. "I wish we could be there but we can't leave the store for that long again. When we came back last time, the store was a disaster area. You're my friend, Hermione, but I'm not willing to go through that again!"  
  
One evening in late November, while Hermione was reading quietly in the sitting room, she felt a sharp pain shoot across her lower abdomen. Instinctively, her hand darted to her stomach and she withdrew a sharp intake of breath. Draco, who was sitting on the sofa beside her, sat up quickly.  
  
"You okay?" he asked tentatively.  
  
"Yeah." Hermione smiled to reassure her husband and tried to avoid his wary eyes. She continued to read for several more minutes before another pain, this time somewhat duller, hit her abdomen again. She leaned forward and began breathing heavily.  
  
"Are you sure you're okay?" Draco's voice was filled with a heavy concern and Hermione didn't want to upset him.  
  
"Uh huh," she answered, leaning back into the sofa. "Just a little annoyance, that's all." But the dull aching continued until she let out a small cry. Draco leapt to his feet and began pacing the room, his newspaper still in hand.  
  
"Okay, I'm going to get the maid, she can help us pack for the hospital. You get outside right now. Dr. Haggler said it's easier to take the carriage because Apparating might not be safe for the baby. Move, now!"  
  
Hermione laughed. "I think we have time," she said, struggling to her feet. "Hours, if not days, most likely."  
  
"Right," Draco said, feigning calmness. Hermione could see the panic in his eyes and couldn't help but laughing as she watched him race around the house, collecting clothing and other accessories he thought she would need.  
  
"And I'll need this for what?" she asked, holding up her jogging suit. Draco gave a flustered cry and flung the suit across the bedroom.  
  
"I don't know! Why don't you help me pack?"  
  
"I would if you would get out of my way." Hermione lowered herself to the mattress and began folding her clothes before putting them into the bag.  
  
"We don't have time to fold!" Draco hollered, ripping the clothes from her hands and throwing them into her bag. "Just pack!"  
  
"Calm down!" Hermione cried, not finding the situation funny any longer. She tried to restrain Draco from flying off the handle. "This baby isn't going anywhere anytime soon so just relax or else I'll leave you here. Now go tell the maid to call our driver with the carriage, but calmly." She watched as Draco fought against the excitement and panic that was building inside of him and left the room. She continued to pack her belongings, trying hard not to squeal with excitement.  
  
"I'm going to have a baby," she muttered softly to herself. Feeling another jolt of pain, she added, "and soon." 


	10. Parents?

Draco was anything but helpful as they entered St. Mungo's Hospital. He was still twitchy and kept getting in Hermione's way when he tried to help her. The nurse that was dealing with Hermione and giving her the papers to sign was watching Draco with a cautious eye for he seemed to become somewhat accident prone within the last few hours, knocking over several things in the hallway of the hospital alone.  
  
Hermione was grateful when she was settled in her room, complete with ice chips, and her parents plus the Malfoys had arrived to sit with her. "Come on, son," Lucius ordered, directing Draco out of the room. "You're obviously no use here."  
  
"His job's done," Narcissa whispered, her face full of girlish delight. She was seated on one side of Hermione's bed, opposite Mr. and Mrs. Granger.  
  
"I think I'll go get a coffee," Mr. Granger offered, standing from his chair. "Anyone want to come with me?"  
  
"I'll stay here, thanks," Mrs. Granger answered. She kept smoothing Hermione's hair out of her face and giving her encouraging words. Hermione was utterly grateful for her mother's presence, although Narcissa flitted about, hovering above them like an insect on a wall.  
  
An hour after her water broke, Draco appeared in the room, looking flustered. "You have visitors in the waiting room," he informed her.  
  
"Who?" she asked, breathing heavily as another contraction hit her.  
  
"Hi, Hermione!" Harry's face appeared around the corner and Draco stalked away, obviously put out.  
  
"Harry!" Hermione's face broke into a grin as she bore her way through the contraction. "Where's Ron?" she asked when the contraction finally ended.  
  
"Gift shop," Harry replied, taking the seat Narcissa had previously occupied. He was watching her flutter around the room needlessly with a look of caution in his eyes. "He wanted to get something for the baby."  
  
A rush of gratitude washed over Hermione and all previous hurtful thoughts about Ron vanished from her mind. She could only think of how thoughtful and sweet the gesture was.  
  
"I'm going to get something for the baby, too," Harry continued, his eyes still on Narcissa, "but I'm going to wait until I know whether it's a boy or a girl. I want to be specific." He grinned and a flicker of the old Harry appeared behind the glasses.  
  
"I'm going to go meet up with your father," Mrs. Granger said, rising from her chair beside the bed. She had barely moved since she first sat down. "He's been gone for awhile and I don't want him thinking we don't want him around." She looked at Narcissa warily. "Narcissa? Do you want to join me?"  
  
"No, I think I'll go find my own husband, thanks," Narcissa replied cheerfully. "We'll meet you back here soon." She departed with a brief smile directed at Hermione and Mrs. Granger followed suit, still looking evasive of Narcissa.  
  
"So how do you feel?" Harry asked when they were alone. Hermione nodded, unable to speak for another contraction had started. She breathed her way through it, gripping Harry's hand tightly.  
  
"Okay," she answered when the contraction had ended. "Tired, but I've a long way to go before it's over."  
  
Harry nodded slowly. "I still can't believe what I'm seeing," he replied sadly. "The fact that you're married to Malfoy is still a shock."  
  
"Uh huh," Hermione replied, still breathing hard. "Maybe this isn't the time to talk about it."  
  
Harry watched her slowly. "Maybe you're right," he replied, but she could sense the tension and difference in the atmosphere of the room after that.  
  
Ron didn't turn up until almost forty minutes after Harry arrived. He entered the room looking somewhat frazzled. "I got lost," he confessed, handing Hermione a bouquet of flowers and a few small stuffed teddy bears.  
  
"How could you get lost?" Harry asked.  
  
Ron shrugged. "Dunno. It just kind of happened." He looked at Hermione and studied her for a second. "How are you feeling?" he finally asked.  
  
"Okay," she replied as another contraction ended. "I guess. I'll be glad when this is over."  
  
"I don't blame you," Ron said, looking like he was the one going through labour. He and Harry sat with her for quite some time before Dr. Haggler came back in and shooed them out.  
  
"She'll be delivering soon," she heard him say just before he closed the door. He smiled at her as he turned to face her. "So how are we feeling?"  
  
"Fine," she replied shortly. The contractions were ten times worse now and much more frequent, causing her to be short-tempered and tired of people asking how she was. She was here to deliver a baby and you would think with all the modern magic nowadays, someone would be able to invent something that would cease a bit of the pain.  
  
"Where's your husband?" Dr. Haggler asked, putting on his gloves.  
  
"You tell me," Hermione muttered, glaring at the doorway. She expected this to happen; just when their child was ready to be brought into the world, Draco would disappear and leave her stranded. "He's a chicken to any sort of pain," she informed the doctor.  
  
Dr. Haggler smiled in his kindly way. "That's typical of most fathers that enter this hospital."  
  
Ten minutes later, however, Draco came bursting through the doorway. "Do the corridors in this hallway change?" he asked, obviously out of breath from running.  
  
"Sometimes," answered Dr. Haggler.  
  
Hermione gave her husband a sharp look but it was cut short as another contraction hit. "Push," Dr. Haggler instructed and Hermione obeyed.  
  
Just when Hermione felt she was going to pass out from the pain, she felt an enormous relief. She lay her head back against the pillow and felt a few lone tears struggle down her cheeks.  
  
"Congratulations," Dr. Haggler said, smiling. "You're now a mummy and daddy." 


	11. Welcome

Hermione was able to leave the hospital two days after their daughter Malinda Malfoy was born. Hermione liked the name Malinda from the moment she heard it. It was Greek for 'gentle one' and her daughter was definitely the most gentle and precious thing Hermione had ever seen. She had soft eyes that gazed up at her with a look of wonder and a silky tuft of hair that strongly resembled Hermione's own.  
  
Hermione spent the first few days home with Malinda in wonder. She marvelled at everything her tiny daughter did, often unable to believe that this little miracle came from her body. She watched Malinda as she slept, content with her life, yet something still plagued her from the depths of her mind.  
  
Harry had paid a visit to the house the day after Hermione returned home with her baby. He was utterly enthralled with the tiny infant and professed his desire to have a child of his own one day. But Ron had yet to come by since his visit at the hospital. Hermione knew that his life was busy but she couldn't help feeling a little put out that one of her best friends didn't pay hardly any attention to the fact that she was a mother.  
  
Little Malinda occupied most of Hermione's time, as well as Draco's. Hermione would spend most of the night up with the crying baby and would nap whenever possible during the day. As soon as Draco got home in the evening, he would take over while his wife slept soundly for a few prized hours. After that, Hermione's shift would start all over again.  
  
"We never sleep anymore!" Draco complained as he fed Malinda early one Thursday morning. Hermione sat across the table from them, falling asleep on her arms.  
  
"I know," she sighed, "but welcome to the world of parenting."  
  
"It sucks not sleeping," Draco muttered, looking sulky. "Why can't she sleep normally?"  
  
"She's two weeks old, Draco. That's going to take time."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
The sullen moods continued for the rest of the week until the weekend when both sets of parents came to visit. Both Mrs. Granger and Narcissa arrived bearing bounties of gifts for their new grandchild but Mr. Granger and Lucius arrived bearing nothing but morose looks at one another. In a private moment alone, Mrs. Granger told Hermione that the two of them had gotten into numerous fights after leaving the hospital.  
  
"Lucius kept going on about how his grandchild was going to be," Mrs. Granger lowered her voice, "a Mudblood."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't listen to him, Mum. He's just a loony."  
  
Mrs. Granger nodded but didn't look assured.  
  
The rest of the afternoon passed in somewhat of peace. Hermione was certain that a few arguments might have broken out if not for the wonderful diversionary tactics of her mother and mother-in-law. All the same, Hermione was just as glad when everyone went home. Malinda was sleeping soundly in her bassinette in the living room and Hermione had settled down for some peace.  
  
"Care for a drink?" Draco stood in the doorway, looking as frazzled as Hermione felt. She nodded and he cracked open a bottle of Butterbeer.  
  
"Ah, the hard stuff tonight," she joked and smiling for what felt like the first time all day. Draco nodded in agreement and sat beside her. Silently, they clinked their glasses together and drank to their new lives as parents.  
  
"It won't be all bad," Draco said after they finished their drinks. "When she gets older it will make our lives easier."  
  
"Yeah," Hermione replied. "But these are the fun years. When she learns to sit up and walk and talk. That's always fun to record."  
  
All the while, Draco hadn't taken his eyes off of his sleeping daughter. Hermione surveyed the situation silently, aware that the decision she had to make was looming ever closer. Here she was, sitting with her husband and daughter-her new family-yet it felt like something was missing. All her life she couldn't just be Mrs. Hermione Malfoy, wife of Draco Malfoy and mother of Malinda Malfoy. She had to be a person; she had to have her own friends and her own personality.  
  
Malinda continued to be a well-nurtured child well into her second month. She had begun sleeping in more regulated patterns but Draco was still unsatisfied.  
  
"She's crying," he informed a groggy Hermione one morning around two.  
  
Hermione opened one eye slowly. "Then go get her."  
  
"Why do I have to go?"  
  
"Because I went last time, not to mention she lived in and came out of my body. I think it's time you fulfilled your responsibility."  
  
Draco got up muttering, unable to argue with Hermione. Disgruntled, he returned to the bed moments later. "Had to be changed," he answered before she could ask.  
  
"Did you change her?"  
  
"No, I left her lying there like that."  
  
Hermione sighed and returned to her dreamless, exhausted state of sleep. It wasn't the first argument they had had since Malinda had been born and she was pretty sure it wasn't going to be the last. Tempers had risen in the Malfoy home since the birth of their daughter and it was becoming obvious that it was from lack of sleep.  
  
One Thursday morning, Draco snapped. "I can't take it much more," he warned.  
  
Hermione sat at the kitchen table, half asleep, rocking Malinda in her baby seat. "I don't know what else to try," she shot back. "I've fed her, changed her, burped her, walked around the house with her, rocked her; I don't know what's wrong."  
  
The little baby kept screaming, unaware of her parents' attitudes at that moment. Hermione kept rocking the seat until Draco stormed out of the house. Putting her former emotions aside, Hermione began a letter to Harry. "Things are out of hand," she wrote after the greetings. "Draco's snapping at me and it's honestly not my fault. It's not Malinda's fault either, but he doesn't seem to understand that."  
  
She finished the letter with an invite to the house for a weekend and sealed it. She mailed it with the weekly household bills and drifted into a drowsy nap when Malinda's crying finally ceased.  
  
Exactly one week later, to the day, Hermione received a reply from Harry stating that he couldn't visit just yet. "Lots of work to be done," he wrote, "and seemingly, I'm the only one that can do it right now. Ron's occupied with his flame so I'm working overtime."  
  
Hermione accepted this answer but was frustrated at Ron for being so blind and ignorant. It certainly wasn't very characteristic of him. This thought pestered at her until two days later when she made a snap decision. It wasn't very far to the Burrow by way of carriage so Hermione packed up Malinda Friday morning after Draco left for work (still looking tired and cross) and headed out to the carriage. If her friends wouldn't come to see her, she would go see her friends. 


	12. Life Changes

The Burrow hadn't changed one bit since Hermione had seen it last. The tiny home still slanted as though the ground beneath it was unstable and there had been an addition to the back of the house. Hermione walked up the drive after telling her driver to pick them up no later than four that afternoon, apprehensive of how the Weasley family would treat her. They had always been kind to her but now that she was a Malfoy, she wasn't entirely sure how well that would go over. Mr. Weasley and Lucius Malfoy had never had a complete understanding.  
  
To her great surprise, Mrs. Weasley opened the door with an excited squeal. "I can't believe you're here!" she cried, pulling Hermione into a soft hug. Her eyes gazed downwards to the sleeping baby. "Isn't she precious?" she cooed, gently lifting Malinda's hand. The baby stirred but did not wake and Mrs. Weasley returned her attention back to Hermione. "She's adorable, Hermione. You haven't changed one bit!"  
  
"Thanks," Hermione managed to say, taken aback by all the sudden attention being lavished on her and her daughter. "How are you?"  
  
"Oh, this is silly!" Mrs. Weasley cried, ushering her inside. "Come in, sit down, let me get you something to drink. Are you hungry? Did you eat breakfast?"  
  
Hermione laughed. "I'm fine, thanks," she assured Mrs. Weasley. On the chair beside her, Malinda began to stir, her eyes fluttering. Hermione picked up the tiny baby, still marvelling at the new baby smell, and began rocking her back and forth on her lap.  
  
"Can I hold her?" Mrs. Weasley asked quietly. She had just put on the kettle for some tea and walked towards Hermione with her arms out. Hermione smiled and nodded, hoisting the baby up in her arms. Mrs. Weasley took her with great care and Hermione kept reminding herself that Mrs. Weasley herself had had seven children; she was a pro when it came to babies.  
  
"Molly, dear, is the kettle on? I could do with a cup of tea, if you don't mind." Mr. Weasley came bustling through the kitchen doorway only to meet Mrs. Weasley's fierce gaze. His eyes travelled from the baby on his wife's shoulder to Hermione sitting in the chair to his left. Hermione waited with great trepidation, wondering what Mr. Weasley's reaction would be.  
  
To her relief, his face broke out into a smile. "Hermione!" he greeted her, holding his arms open wide. She stood and hugged him quickly. "It's been forever! How are you doing?"  
  
"Fine," she answered, feeling some of the post-partum depression sink in. Tears sprung to her eyes as she was incredibly happy to be accepted at this substitute home with such love and generosity, as though nothing had changed. "I'm just fine." She sniffled.  
  
Mr. Weasley gave his wife a subtle look and started to back out of the room. "Well, it's nice to see you again, Hermione. I won't be long; you'll be here when I get back?"  
  
Hermione nodded, wiping her eyes. "Probably."  
  
Mr. Weasley smiled and left the kitchen. Across the room, Mrs. Weasley gave Hermione a small smile. "Let's talk," she said, pulling out the chair beside Hermione, who was now crying softly. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Everything!" Hermione moaned, burying her face in her arms. "Everything all at once. Draco and I are fighting more than ever because he doesn't like being woken up in the middle of the night to a crying baby."  
  
"He'll get over that," Mrs. Weasley assured her.  
  
"It's not just that," Hermione continued, lowering her voice. Her eyes darted around the kitchen. "It's my friendship with Harry and Ron. It's changed somehow. I don't know how to explain it, but every time I see them, no matter how hard I try to convince myself, it seems like that part of my life is dead. I've tried reviving it but it just doesn't seem to work." She sniffled again, feeling more hot tears spring to her eyes.  
  
Mrs. Weasley didn't speak for several minutes. She simply looked thoughtful, absentmindedly bouncing Malinda on her shoulder. "I think every friendship and relationship changes in life," she finally said slowly. "Some of them for the better and some of them for the worse."  
  
"How do I know which one mine is changing to?" Hermione questioned, taking Malinda back from Mrs. Weasley. She was fast asleep again but instead of tucking her away in her seat, she simply held onto her.  
  
Mrs. Weasley smiled gently. "I think you'll find out when the time's right," she said. "But remember, no friendship ever stays the same. The friendship you had with Harry and Ron at Hogwarts will have somewhat died because none of you is the same anymore. People change, too. That's the basis for a relationship and how it changes through life."  
  
"So you're saying," Hermione repeated, "that even if our friendship has changed, that doesn't mean it's over? Even if that original spark isn't there anymore?"  
  
"You just answered your own question. 'Original' describes how your friendship was at Hogwarts; that doesn't necessarily mean that the same spark will always be there."  
  
Hermione nodded, finally understanding. She looked at Mrs. Weasley and couldn't contain the glow of warmth that she had for this wonderful woman. She seemed to be the only person that understood her and what she meant. Not only that, but she had put into words what Hermione could only form in her mind. She hugged her gratefully and managed to enjoy the rest of her visit.  
  
Hermione arrived home just before Draco returned from work. Quickly, she made it look like she was busy reading in the sitting room, not too eager to share her daily experience with her husband.  
  
Draco was in a much more cheerful mood that evening then he was that morning. He spent several moments playing with a gurgling Malinda before eating supper and retreating to the sitting room where he began reading his evening newspaper. It struck Hermione how oddly Draco reminded her of her own father back in their Muggle home.  
  
She slept well that night, with no worries on her mind, no fretful feelings flitting in and out of her brain. As if she sensed the calmness in her mother, Malinda also slept peacefully, only waking once during the night, making Draco a very happy father. So happy that when Hermione awoke in the morning (after Draco had left for work) she found a sweet note on the table from Draco, just saying how much he loved her and that he would see her that evening. Hermione felt peaceful; she no longer had doubts about her best friends and her marriage was holding fast. It was a nice feeling and she hoped that it would last. 


	13. Disruption

Do you ever get that feeling in the morning when you wake up that something is going to happen that day that will change your life forever? Something big that will possibly send all resolved issues to the sun, leaving you to rebuild your life over again? Hermione woke with that unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach two weeks after her visit to the Burrow. She had written to Harry and Ron, telling them how sorry she was for being so unstable recently and had received replies from both of her friends telling her that no feelings were hurt and they were planning a visit at the end of that month to the Malfoy home once again.  
  
Now, nine days before that visit was to commence, Hermione sat at her kitchen table, nervously biting her nails. The maid and the cook were playing with Malinda, who was gurgling happily in her high chair. Malinda's squeals of delight were interrupting Hermione's frantic worries and she almost snapped twice at her infant daughter.  
  
"Calm down," she told herself as she put Malinda down for her afternoon nap. "Nothing's wrong; you've just become paranoid lately." But the incessant swooping of owls over the wizarding homes and the whispering of the people as Hermione took a quick trip into the village sent her mind into overtime. Something was definitely wrong.  
  
When she arrived back home, Susan, one of the maids, greeted her in the front foyer. Her face was pale and her hand shook as she handed Hermione a piece of rolled up parchment.  
  
"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, setting down her purse and taking the letter from the quivering hand of the maid. Susan just shook her head.  
  
"You haven't heard already then?"  
  
"Heard what?"  
  
Susan shook her head again, this time more violently, and ran from the room in tears. Feeling the frightened feeling creep back up into her throat, Hermione unrolled the parchment and read it quickly.  
  
"Dearest Hermione," it began in big, loopy writing that Hermione hadn't seen in awhile. "If you haven't heard the news by now, then I'm afraid I will be the one to break it to you. Lord Voldemort has returned. Much like he did during your fourth year at Hogwarts, only this time stronger and much more efficient and organized than before.  
  
"You may wonder how we are certain of this. The truth be told, Voldemort has already claimed two victims, one he has been seeking out for many years and one that he would simply consider a waste. I'm afraid, Hermione, that his two victims are your friends Ron Weasley and Harry Potter.  
  
"Once again, I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news. Please accept my condolences and write me back when you feel like talking.  
  
Sincerely, Albus Dumbledore."  
  
Hermione stopped reading, her mind blank. She felt like she had fallen down several flights of stairs and her head was still reeling. Disorientation set in as she found it foolish to assume that the worst part of the news was born when Dumbledore told her that Voldemort had returned.  
  
She read the part about Harry and Ron's deaths over again, yet found it hard to believe. Instantly, she expected tears to rain down on the letter, but instead she received nothing. The sadness wasn't quite there yet, maybe because she didn't fully believe it. How could it be that nine days before her two best friends would come bouncing through the front door, they would be slaughtered at the hands of the relentless Lord Voldemort?  
  
She rested her head in her hands, feeling suddenly ill and somewhat betrayed. She needed answers, she needed closure; she needed someone to tell her exactly what had happened and why her friends were snatched from her before they could even see her daughter Malinda. She wanted to know so many things and all at once, but it just wasn't possible. Feeling like the bottom of her world had fallen out and cast her into a dark slumber, she struggled into the sitting room where she collapsed in front of the fire and stared at the flames licking at the fireplace. It was mesmerizing how the flames danced about, casting shadows on the wall of the dark room behind her. It was odd how after so many long years, Voldemort had finally caught up with Harry and finished what he had started with just an innocent one-year old baby. She had always known that one of them would have to kill the other; it was in the prophecy. But why after so many years? How could one individual be so remorseless?  
  
Draco arrived home five minutes later only to find his wife in the sitting room, staring into the fire dazed and his daughter wailing upstairs. He rushed to get the screaming baby and carried her downstairs where he knelt beside Hermione at the fireplace.  
  
"Did you hear?" he asked softly but received no reply. "I came as soon as I heard," he continued, taking her prolonged silence for an answer. "It was all throughout work in a matter of minutes." He shook his head sadly. "It's a damn shame. I never got along with either of them but it's such a waste."  
  
Slowly Hermione turned her head to Draco and he was surprised to see that her eyes had slid out of focus. She looked distant and dreary but when she spoke, her voice was grounded in reality.  
  
"What happened?" she asked monotonously.  
  
"Do you really want to know?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Draco took a deep breath and shifted Malinda's weight. "Apparently Potter and Weasley were working at that shop of theirs when the Dark Lord arrived. He went straight for Weasley first, to get him out of the way, but Potter put up a good fight. Apparently they duelled for quite some time before the Dark Lord missed Potter and hit Weasley with the Avada Kedavra curse. Blinded by rage, Potter went after the Dark Lord only to be hit by the same curse. They were both killed instantly and suffered no pain."  
  
"That's not the point," Hermione replied quietly, turning back to the fire. "The point is that they're gone and they're never coming back."  
  
Draco remained silent and got up moments later to change a fussing Malinda. Hermione continued to sit in stony silence, refusing to believe what she had just heard. Many thoughts flew through her mind at this time. She recalled when she had first met the two smiling boys on the Hogwarts Express and the time when they saved her from the troll in the girls' bathroom. She thought of the time when Madam Pomfrey told her that neither boy left her side when she had been Petrified by the giant Basilisk. She remembered when they had suffered as a trio during a Dementor attack in their third year and how Harry had come through for them all. She remembered studying with Harry until the early hours of morning for the tasks in the Triwizard tournament. She thought of their smiling faces and happy grins as they greeted her each morning in the Great Hall for breakfast and she expected the tears to flow but they still remained dormant.  
  
She slept on the floor in front of the fire that night, drifting in and out of a troubled sleep. She had refused to eat supper that evening but no one pressured her. She barely moved at all and kept waking during the night, wondering why her mind was sinking into a pit of desperation. She dearly wished for Draco to be beside her but she knew he had to attend to Malinda; she would be no help there. Damn it, she could barely look after herself at this moment let alone another human being.  
  
The morning arrived quickly and Draco informed her that he would be staying home that day to help look after Malinda. "The office should be closed anyway," he muttered, stalking out of the room. Hermione spent the first few hours of the dreary morning staring out the window for a change. The weather reflected her mood as raindrops struck the windowsill in a huff, as though the Heavens was weeping for her lost friends. She only tore her eyes away long enough to read a letter from Mrs. Weasley stating that the funerals would be held together in a church near the Burrow the following day.  
  
"I do hope you can attend, Hermione, but if not, I'll understand," bore the tear-stained letter. Hermione felt almost jealous that Mrs. Weasley was able to weep the tears that threatened her eyes. Hermione still hadn't cried and was beginning to wish she would. Maybe some of the fear and sorrow would be released with a good cry.  
  
She made her way up to her bedroom and slept there, on and off, for several hours into the night. The next day she dressed early and headed out to the carriage alone. "I have to be alone today," she told the driver and he simply nodded as he closed the carriage door and it carried her away to the Burrow.  
  
Once again, nothing had changed about the small house but when Mrs. Weasley opened the door this time, her eyes were red and swollen and she hugged Hermione immediately, sobbing into her shoulder. Hermione remained tearless.  
  
Inside, Hermione noticed that all six of the Weasley children were there, including Percy, Ron's older brother whom had had a falling out with the family years ago. Percy looked like he had not cried either but when he saw Hermione, she noticed a solemn single tear slip out of the corner of his eye.  
  
They left for the church in silence and Hermione noted that Mr. Weasley was carrying the silent burden. He remained stony-faced with not a tear in sight, although he did look somewhat older. The church was one that Hermione had never seen before and she followed the Weasleys in, joining them in the front pew at Mrs. Weasley's insistence. "You're almost family," she whispered to Hermione.  
  
The two caskets lay side by side up front and Hermione's eyes darted in every direction to avoid them. She looked around the church, meeting the eyes of complete strangers who had come by to see the funeral of the Boy Who Lived. It angered her that they felt no emotional pain for Harry Potter; just the death of a name that had saved them years ago. She didn't really expect to see the Dursleys there, Harry's aunt, uncle and cousin, but was surprised to see Dudley Dursley lurking in the corner of the church. He was half hidden by the shadows and Hermione was sure that his mother would wallop him good if she knew he were there. Hermione gave him a kind look for the sullen face of compassion he wore and turned away before Dudley's tears that threatened him escaped, too.  
  
Surrounded by sobbing people, Hermione listened unemotionally to the service the minister gave about two brave boys who fought to the very end. "Perhaps it was that that gave such fury to Harry Potter through the years," the minister stated, tears showing in his bright brilliant eyes. "Or maybe it was the friendships he gave and received. Either way, these two fine young gentlemen were warriors to the end."  
  
Hermione felt no emotion as they stood in rows and prepared to exit the church as the caskets were carried down the aisle and out the door. But as they passed Hermione, who had been the last to enter the pew, she felt an incredible surge of emotion and the tears flooded her eyes like never before. "No!" she screamed, making a wild grab for the casket that passed her by. She rushed out of the pew and down the aisle, dropping to the ground, screaming. "Don't leave me!" she yelled, tears pouring down her cheeks. "Please, don't leave me! I can't do this without you! Don't leave me!"  
  
"Hermione!" Mrs. Weasley's desperate cry echoed from behind her as Mr. Weasley grabbed her firmly from behind.  
  
"Hermione, don't," he began, but she kicked and screamed until he let go of her. She half-ran, half-crawled after the caskets, continuing to scream. Once she reached the carriages at the bottom of the staircase outside that would carry them to the cemetery, she dropped to the foot of one bearing the name, "Harry Potter," in gold letters.  
  
"Harry, you can't leave me," she sobbed. "I don't know what to do without you. Please, don't go."  
  
She clambered over to the next one, wiping dust off the nameplate that said, "Ronald Weasley."  
  
"Ron, don't you go, either. You've always been my light, my laughter. Please don't leave me!" She began sobbing wildly, banging her fists against the cold, hard pavement of the street. Mr. Weasley came up behind her again, and grabbed her underneath the arms. Mrs. Weasley's tempestuous sobbing came from the door to the church.  
  
"Hermione, they're gone," he told her firmly. "They're gone; they can't come back!"  
  
"I don't believe you!" Hermione screamed in his face. "They can't be gone." She turned to Harry's casket again as Ron's was loaded onto the carriage. "Harry, you've been immortal over the years. You've survived so much. You can't die now. Not after all you've been through!"  
  
Mr. Weasley pulled her back again roughly as Harry's casket was loaded beside Ron's. Wailing until her head throbbed, Hermione watched, hands outstretched as her best friends were carried away from her forever. 


	14. Mirrored Images

One month later, Hermione sat on the shores of the lake at Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore had invited her back for 'safety reasons', as well as Draco and Malinda. Hermione felt a strange comforting, being back at her old school, safe and away from the new reign of Lord Voldemort, but something was still missing in her life.  
She had never gotten to say goodbye to her two best friends. If there's anything worse in the world than losing two of your closest confidants, it's not being able to give them a proper goodbye. The emotions were sometimes so unbearable that she often broke out into painful tears of hurt and agony that wracked her entire body.  
Draco was supportive in every possible way and even wholeheartedly agreed to join them at Hogwarts. "For the safety of my wife and daughter," he demanded. "Nothing's more important to me."  
Hermione smiled to herself, through her tears, as she witnessed what looked like reflections of the past in the mirrored lake. The sun above her shone brightly, making the cooler air warm with sunlight. A temperate breeze wafted through the air, causing her to shiver and glance back at the castle. So many memories; so many stories to tell. So much to remember in such a short time.  
If Ron and Harry's deaths had proven anything to Hermione, it was that life was short. She couldn't go on, pretending that she would live forever. She had had enough of putting things off until later, because one day, there wouldn't be a later. Ron and Harry had discovered that entirely too late and Hermione still ached with the loss of her friends. But life went on, she figured, even though more painful than she could have ever imagined. She still had a family to look after and dark and tough times ahead of her. If Voldemort ever had to be defeated, it was now. And only strength could help that.  
She stood up from her place on the grass and stared into the flickering water for a few more moments. Then she turned, slowly, back towards the castle and made her way up the hill like she had done so many years before. Instead of the three figures advancing on the looming building, there was one solitary figure, alone in her own darkness, fighting to make her way in the troubled path called life. 


End file.
